


See murder on page...

by Stoic_piece_of_garbage



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Again, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, William Afton is a dramatic bitch, Yup that will be all characters, as canon as possible, but the character interpretation is mostly headcanony bc Fnaf, dramatic irony since we all know how this will end, one reference to Bill Clinton cause 90's, pre-Silver eyes, weird metaphors, will probably add more tags later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:07:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28198149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stoic_piece_of_garbage/pseuds/Stoic_piece_of_garbage
Summary: January 1993, Hurricane, Utah. A newly employed security guard at the local abandoned mall has to help a strange man find his lost possession. What could possibly go wrong?Or: what if there was an actual guard named Dave Miller, whose identity William had to steal? Big emphasis on WAS. You know the drill.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	1. So, why is it called the graveyard shift?

**Convicted murderer set free, incenses FBI agent**

_Well, that’s unfortunate,_ thought the man, currently sitting in an old swivel chair, as he absentmindedly brought his hand to his face, covering his mouth, while the other one was holding the Wednesday issue of „Vernal Express”. According to the crudely written nametag located over the left pocket of his shirt, his name was „Dave”, so to avoid possible confusion we will refer to him as such from this point onward.  
  
Dave glanced quickly on the computer screen, showing the painfully static security camera feed. Having fulfilled his civic duty, he went back to the front page article.  
  
_Murderers …massacre of eight people…officers were able to catch the other four suspects…hm…_  
  
He skimmed through the text, not giving it much more introspection other than the initial appropriately compassionate reaction. Until he reached the end and saw the tiny letters nonchalantly spelling out in all of their serifless confidence:  
**See murder on page 2**  
  
For some indiscernible reason, he chuckled at that short sentence  
_Why would anyone actually want to see a murder?_  
  
Well, to be fair, he did just read an article about a gruesome crime, instead of the one just above it, about the flooding of visitors in the county jail during Christmas, which had a decidedly more optimistic tone. So maybe it wasn’t as weird as he thought. Seeing, experiencing other people’s tragedy… It is just something people do. But outright witnessing a murder? No, Dave wouldn’t want to do it.  
  
_I mean, I guess some people would. Out of curiosity maybe. Or boredom…_  
  
He covered his hand to stifle the yawn, despite there being no one around. It had only been 3 hours since the beginning of his shift, and he already came to the point of overthinking the slightly awkward phrasing in the daily newspaper.  
  
But you can’t blame him for that, really. He only had about a weekend of experience in this type of soul-draining workplace, so he didn’t have enough time to develop some convoluted form of entertainment, like trying to connect all the paperclips you can find in the drawers into one giant chain, or trying to form words using the letter-coordinated binders, only to come to the realization that there were two „H”’s, one „I” and one „T”, but not an „S” in sight.  
Truly, a terrible exercise in human misery.  
  
_Or maybe I should have just brought some crosswords, or, I don’t know, a sketchbook-_  
Before he could even really go over all the fascinating retirement home activities lined up in his mind, a sudden change in the grainy footage on one of the cameras caught his desperate attention. Although very seedily, he could recognize a distinctly human figure moving nervously to and fro near the main entrance, alternating between looking at the ground, and looking through the bare window as if he hoped to be approached by someone.  
And apparently, this someone had to be none other than Dave.  
  
He smiled weakly at himself, being in a way embarrassed that such a mundane occurrence as telling someone that they aren’t allowed to enter the building, was probably the most exciting thing he was going to do that night. So, without a second thought, he grabbed his flashlight and prayed silently for some kind of divine guidance so he wouldn’t get lost again in the dark corridors.  
  
It seemed to work, and before he knew it, he was unlocking one of the only legitimate doors in the whole facility, since most of them were either hammered or nonexistent, like most of the things in this godforsaken place. He strolled along the concrete wall until he could see the back of a man in front of the metal doors. Dave pointed his flashlight straight forward, to make sure his sudden presence wouldn’t startle the guy, but to his surprise, the man remained in the same exact position, completely unaffected by the bright beam of light.  
  
_He must be completely lost in his thought or something…weird._  
  
"Excuse me, mister- Dave said in a firm tone, to get the other's attention "– but I’m afraid that you can’t enter."  
The man finally turned to face him, slightly bent hands held mid-air in a very defensive stance. He blinked rapidly, because of the bright light, which prompted Dave to lower it a little, so he doesn’t blind the poor guy.  
"Oh, pardon me, I didn’t mean to trespass in any way!” He said as he straightened his back. From the looks of it he had to be at least a head taller than Dave, which made his complete apologetic surrender even more peculiar. That is if you don’t take into consideration the fact that despite his height the man looked rather lanky, with a certain angularity to his movement.  
  
The only other thing Dave could register in that short moment was the fact that he was wearing a full suit. Men in suits have this weird ability to impose context where there is none. They make situations formal and logical, granting us, mere mortals, the comfort of knowing that even if something bad happens, there will be at least 5 people down the chain of command to blame for it. So, apparently, this would-be trespasser must have had a very good reason to be there.  
  
_Or maybe he’s just drunk._ Dave thought to himself quietly, as the strange man rubbed his eyes.  
  
"Oh, I was just looking around… actually, maybe I could ask you for some help, mister – he skewed his head childishly trying to get a better look at the guard's nametag "…Dave?"  
"Of course.” Dave felt his jaw slightly clenching at the sound of being referred to by his first name, like some kind of an underpaid, suspicious preschool teacher, but decided not to comment on that "If I can be of any help…then yeah”  
"Wonderful, so the matter is that I was here about 4 hours ago, walking to the bus stop from a board meeting, you know how long those things can get sometimes…  
Dave had no idea how long those kinds of things could get, so of course, he nodded along very seriously  
"So I was late for my bus, and since it was the last that evening I made a rather callous decision and started running to the bus stop, making it at the last possible moment. Only after coming home did I realize that I have had dropped my wallet somewhere on the pavement next to this establishment.  
  
Dave quickly glanced at the parking lot, It was completely empty, except for his old Ford.  
_If the last bus left around 10, and there’s no car in sight…how did he drive back here?_  
No, that was a stupid thought. There were many perfectly reasonable explanations for that situation. He was just experiencing first-week on the job paranoia.  
Crap, the guy was still talking.  
  
"So, is there any chance such item could have been found here in the last couple of hours?”  
  
Oh, right, the wallet...  
  
"If your wallet was lost before midnight, it might have been picked up by someone from the afternoon shift.”  
"Oh, you know them?”  
"Well…to be frank, it’s only my third day on the job, so I haven’t…em…got to meet anyone."  
"I understand” there was a subtle note of disappointment in his voice.  
"But, as I said” Dave continued „It might have been found. There aren’t a lot of people walking around here, ‘specially at this hour. It’s unlikely anyone else stole it.  
"I would be eternally thankful if you could check whether that’s the case. I really. Need those documents.”  
"It should be somewhere in the main office then” Dave scratched his head and tried to remember where the main office was located. _Was it even called „the main office?”_ Whatever, it didn’t matter.  
"Great!” the man smiled and put his hands together with a slight clap."So…should I wait here or…”  
"We can go inside” Dave gestured at the building with his flashlight "It’s too cold out here anyway.”  
  
The other man smiled and nodded, but to Dave’s confusion he looked back at the pile of rubble beneath the barred window, a certain unconvinced but decisively determined look on his face. Before he could heroically get his undoubtedly expensive shoes dirty in the industrial debris, Dave stopped him with an awkward as hell cough.  
  
"We can actually use a real door.”  
"Oh, of course, how silly of me.” The man turned back visibly embarrassed and adjusted his tie with one hand.  
"Just…follow me,” Dave said and slowly started walking toward the door.  
  
With only a torch in his hand, he had to lead the stranger through the shadows, facing the unknown with all the courage he could muster.  
  
Well, it sounded much cooler when put in that way at least.  
  
And so they wabbled fearlessly into the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mostly a thingie about how William would be perceived from an outside perspective, mostly as the "faux affable business nerd". It is never shown in the books, so it's mostly speculation, but I stand by my opinion that this is the most interesting lens through which we can characterize him.  
> Fun fact: the newspaper snippets are from an actual article from the 1993 January 3rd (i think) issue of VS. I found in some archive to make it a little bit more realistic. Also, I like research sooo


	2. Full-time psychopomps, part-time psychoanalisists

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The exciting story of going down a corridor. Yeeeey.  
> Included: Calling out Jaws for its damaging shark portrayal, questionable taste in street-art, and that one song from Fun House.  
> Enjoy

The abandoned mall wasn’t by any accounts a particularly scary place. It didn’t have the same air of almost gothic melancholy many other buildings of that type seem to possess. It was a faceless block, devoid of any sort of personality, dropped in the middle of that deserted area, like a redbrick thrown out of malice at a lego set. If there’s a special circle of hell reserved specifically for dull bureaucrats and unimaginative city planners, it must look exactly like this. Completed with its own mildly confused albeit well-intentioned Virgil.  
  
The two figures wandered through the narrow corridor, a bright beam of light guiding their way. Dave bit the inside of his cheek as he was looking around carefully, trying to remember the correct way to the main office or whatever it was called. The truth is, he had a rather hard time imagining how the layout of the building could have looked like, since he only got to experience it in pieces, only seeing as far as the light allowed him to. Every corridor seemed the same, devoid of any discernable characteristics, so he had to rely solely on his geometric intuition. So, first, he would take the left corridor, then the right (because if he took the left again he would be going in circles, right?) and then go straight for a while, ignoring one of the doors with some newfound confidence. Yes, it had to be the right way, and nothing else could distract him from it. He continued almost hypnotized by the steady rhythm echoing around the hallways, one regular „tap” followed by another, just as he placed his steps on the dirty tiles. But somehow he didn’t seem to…  
  
He couldn’t….  
  
He could only hear his own footsteps.  
  
So what? People often synchronize. Especially while walking.  
Nothing weird about that.  
But still.  
It was too perfect.  
Too precise.  
Like a shadow.  
Like he wasn’t even there.  
  
_Calm down Orpheus, he’s right behind you_  
  
Dave thought, even though it didn’t calm him in the slightest. He started slowly but steadily increasing his pace. It felt insane, but he wanted to be proven wrong.  
Nothing changed. He could still only hear himself. God damnit, why was he suddenly so sweaty?  
  
He was almost running. It must have looked ridiculous. So he stopped.  
  
„…is there anything wrong?” Dave felt the other man’s calm voice playing paddle ball with his brain. It sounded like something straight out of a car insurance commercial or a BBC documentary, or any other not-meant-to-be-threatening piece of corporate propaganda. And yet, there he was, basically running away from the human equivalent of a PowerPoint presentation. Dave felt embarrassed, but that embarrassment didn’t stop him from seizing the opportunity to turn back and take a better look at the man.  
  
He was looking at him with a gentle smile, even though his eyes seemed a little unmatched to his expression. They were cold and gray or maybe „grey” in his case, shielded from the outside world by a pair of old-fashioned glasses. He looked a little bit uneasy as if he was actively hiding some kind of discomfort.  
  
_Of course, he looks uncomfortable, YOU’RE the one staring at HIM for no reason you paranoid moron._  
  
No, it couldn’t be the whole truth, could it?  
  
There must have been something weird about that guy, He looked normal enough, but at the same time seemed…off. There was something almost liminal about his appearance - like an unfinished pencil sketch, some parts blurry and only vaguely hinted at, while others possessing way too much detail. And those flat eyes…  
  
After the man gave him one more questioning and visibly confused look, Dave snapped out of that weird trance. What was even happening to him?  
  
"I..” _shit, the question, what was the question_ \- "I thought I heard someone” he finally replied, trying to act as collected as he possibly could.  
"You think there might be someone else here?” the man asked in a childishly curious tone, his eyes suddenly searching for something behind him, eyes wide with some strange spark.  
"Well, I haven’t seen any other folks yet” Dave resumed walking at a much slower pace. This time he kept a little closer to the man, just enough to keep him in the corner of his eye at any given moment. Maybe he was going insane, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.  
"But I heard stories. They say some teenagers like to sneak around here at night, to hang out and do…things.”  
  
He finished that sentence just before he was about to describe a particularly interesting piece of graffiti work depicting President Clinton and Al Gore in a rather…compromising position, which he had stumbled upon during his first day in that place. Even though the artistry of the work was negotiable, he appreciated the lettering of the caption containing the very subtle social commentary, which we are not going to quote here verbatim for obvious reasons.  
  
"Youth- "the man said it like a title of a chapter in an introductory company PSA, which for some reason always assumes that adult workers have the listening capability of a stack of printer paper. "Such a strange time in our lives, don’t you agree?.”  
  
Dave thought about his response and-  
  
"Dipping your toes in the ocean – _oh, so that wasn’t a genuine question, just a fancy segway, ok, nevermind_ – "to see if the temperature is alright, and then jumping head-first, not knowing that the seemingly calm waters are actually infested with sharks.”  
"…sharks?”  
"You know, dangerous situations" – his voice glimmered with even more benevolent condescension – "Difficult dilemmas. People you shouldn’t trust.”  
"No, I get the metaphor, sir. It’s just, I actually read an article about this and it turns out sharks are not that deadly to humans. At least not any more than any other large animal."  
  
The man looked at him for a quick moment with a completely neutral expression and blinked several times. After, what could only be described as a "system reboot”, he smiled even wider than before and chuckled unconvincingly.  
„Well, in that case, I guess there’s nothing to fear then.”  
„But the metaphor…it no longer holds-…”  
„Oh, let’s not bring semantics into this” The man waved his hand in a dismissive manner "I’m just talking through my hat to somehow fill the void with noise. I’m sorry if I’m not making much sense.”  
"No that’s actually fine” _It is fine only as long as he’s in your line of sight_ "It does kinda get a little lonely in here.”  
  
As his voice echoed, he could feel the other man’s eyes on his face, scanning him thoroughly. He pretended not to notice that fact, even though he could feel the sudden tightness around his neck and just kept walking as he readjusted his collar.  
  
"Being a guard must be very taxing. With all those…teenagers running around and weirdos looking for their lost items in the middle of a night.”  
  
Dave chuckled even though he wasn’t sure why. His throat was just as tight as before so it sounded more like a nervous gasp for air. He felt ridiculous.  
  
"I wouldn’t say it’s that hard. This place isn’t some type of a highly protected area, so there’s really not much to do. It’s a little dull but helps pay the bills.”  
And child support. No, wait-  
  
_Your daughter is 19. You no longer pay child support, you lazy dumbass. What are you even doing with your life?_  
  
The answer to that question came in the form of a rather inconspicuous door. It wasn’t marked in any way but somehow seemed a lot more important than other doors in the facility, which were mostly made of plywood and resembled wafers smeared with butterscotch, both in color and durability. Yes, those were the stern metal doors his heart had been aching for, since the beginning of this weird rendezvous.  
  
Dave swiftly took the ring of keys from his belt and begun examining each key with a serious expression, even though he had no idea what half of them had even been for until he found one that looked more-or-less reasonable. He put it in the lock and tried to move it but to no avail. But hey, maybe it just wasn’t the right key?  
So he tried putting in every single key on the ring. Some of them fit, some of them didn’t, and one of them was weirdly shaped like a corkscrew, no, scratch that, it was just a normal corkscrew (the guy before him must have really liked his Cabernet apparently). Dave could feel his palms getting increasingly sweaty as he fiddled with the lock and tried pulling the handle, only to notice that the rusty screws had begun to come undone. Whatever was behind those doors hadn’t seen the light of day for a long time, so it couldn’t be the place his bosses kept all their precious documents, and even more precious bottles of red wine. Finally, he gave up.  
  
"This isn’t the room” Dave turned back to face the man who was just standing there, watching him attentively with a slight smile and hands behind his back. Dave scratched his forehead and averted his eyes because he knew once he got caught in that unmoving steel stare, he would freeze in a place completely „I’m so sorry, sir.”  
"That’s not a big deal, really. We can take as much time as you need to.”  
"It’s just- I’ve only been here for 2 nights and I still didn’t even receive any sort of proper training! They just left me a note, not even a formal letter, just a Post-it on the desk, saying >>Here’s the list of your responsibilities, we will send someone from the DS on Wednesday to give you a tour of the building, the spare uniforms are in the back closet in case you need one, good luck!<<.  
  
The man laughed, but that time it actually sounded genuine. At least by comparison.  
  
"Sounds like a completely fool-proof hiring process”  
"Right? For all they know, I could have had already set the whole thing on fire by now. Hell, they probably wouldn’t even be able to trace it back to me.”  
"Truly fascinating.” Dave somehow managed to look the man in the eye if only for a brief moment. His eyes were still as flat as before, drilling into him with no clear intention. Neither angry nor happy, just…staring. But he still couldn't tell why that lanky, emaciated yuppie, was creeping him out so god-damn much. He felt a sudden need to finish this whole ordeal as fast as he could and go back to his newspaper.  
  
"Anyway, I think a have an idea where the main office might be. Hopefully, this will be it”  
"Then let’s go. Time is money, as they say.” The man said and for no discernable reason put his hand on Dave’s shoulder. It caught him off-guard but only after a brief pause he pulled away from the unwanted touch and decided not to question it for the sake of his own sanity.  
  
"Yeah, we should be going.”


End file.
